Pining
by krebsandoutrage
Summary: Roxas awkwardly pines for his next door neighbor. Hoorah.


***Btw, part one of this story is actually the story of my life right now. Totally angsty for this super, super hot Romanian guy next door, and I am totally a Roxas-type personality. I dream of the day we will make pancakes together. Sadly, we only met once. Seriously – NEXT DOOR NEIGHBORS. How is that shit possible? Anyway, sorry if this story is lame. It's totally just my way of telling random people about my life in an attempt to make the situation seem better. Yeah, sorry! Wish me luck. Hopefully one day I can write a part two in which I actually talk to said man for the second time. BIG DREAMS.***

Roxas could hear him turning on the shower through the wall – heard him drop something, maybe the soap and mutter to himself. He sighed. He felt like a stalker, but how could _he_ help it that the walls were so thin and the man's bathroom happened to be right next to the bedroom where Roxas spent most his time? And how could he help the fact that he could hear the man coming inside each night from that same room?

How was it that in all this time they'd never run into one another? They shared a _wall_ after all. It must have been that their schedules were incompatible, but Roxas had tried to change that – tried to walk home at the same time he usually heard the man come home, yet they'd only met once. The man had knocked on the door to their landlord's office just after the landlord had left the room for a cigarette.

"Hi, is Mr. Xemnas in? I think he told me to come here if I, uh, had any questions?"

His accent was lovely – vaguely British and buttery -delicious. Roxas couldn't pinpoint it, but he was mesmerized. The man had red hair and triangular tattoos under his eyes. Everything about him was intriguing, and, to make matters even worse, he had such a beautiful voice. Roxas wasn't even sure how to talk to him, but luckily he could revert to social auto-pilot when necessary. Later , he wouldn't remember what he had said – just words, random words. He hoped they were appropriate for the topic of conversation. Then he realized he was supposed to go get Xemnas. He didn't want to leave – in fact, he wanted to know all about this person, but he didn't know if the man cared to talk to him at all or had a boyfriend or, worse, a girlfriend. Roxas had pretty shitty gaydar for someone who had liked men his whole life.

He'd only had one boyfriend, back in sophomore year of high school, and that had ended badly. Since then, there hadn't really been anyone. Just him pining for various people, never knowing if they were gay or not, and, consequently, never being brave enough to make the first move. He was shy and probably unapproachable. He knew it, but he hoped that eventually someone might notice him anyway – hopefully this man.

Since that first meeting, Roxas had tried to track the man down. He was pretty sure he'd followed him home once or twice, but the man walked so fast that Roxas couldn't keep up. And Roxas could hear him in his apartment sometimes, talking on the phone, watching TV, but it all came out as vague mumbles, no matter how hard Roxas pressed his ear against the wall. He was an _adult_. Why should it matter so much to him? Why couldn't he find someone like a normal person? Oh well.

Roxas listened to the man humming in the shower. He didn't recognize the tune. Why hadn't he at least asked the man's name during their only meeting? Or maybe he had and then he'd forgotten. He closed his eyes and listened to the shower and the song and dreamed of them meeting again.

##

It happened when Roxas was at the grocery store, just his luck. He was wearing sweat pants and a hoodie, going on a late-night shopping run for cookies. He saw the shock of red hair from behind and was pretty sure that it must be him. If he could only see his face –look for the tattoos to find out for sure. He looked to see what the man was buying – pancake mix. Roxas liked pancakes too, but he had never been quite so giddy about them as he was in that moment. He imagined the man and him making pancakes together, with chocolate chips mixed in – watching the morning news together.

Holy shit. It was him. He had turned around –turned around to find Roxas staring at him with what Roxas imagined was the expression of a daydreaming lunatic. Roxas tried to fix his smile into something a little more appropriate and lifted a hand in greeting, which, incidentally hit into a shelf and knocked down a pile of cake mixes. Roxas looked at the mixes awkwardly and back at the man. Should he pick them up? Or should he be too cool to pick them up? He didn't know. It all depended on who this guy was, and Roxas realized that, despite all his daydreaming, he didn't know a thing about this person except that he somehow had decided they were perfect for each other, but clearly, this guy was too cool for him.

The man was walking towards him, looking friendly and super cool and super composed. Roxas stood still out of self-defense. Best not to continue making a fool out of himself.

"Hey – you're my next door neighbor, right?" the man said, smiling at him. The sight of his face, combined with the accent, was making Roxas completely incapable of formulating thought. Just speak, he told himself.

"Yes! How nice to run into you! You know, it's weird, I can hear you humming in the shower sometimes," he said nervously. His face turned bright red. He quickly realized that that was the very last thing that needed to be said. The man looked at him. Roxas sensed that the man was quite aware of how awkward Roxas had just made the conversation.

"Heh heh…. Yeah. I hear you too, I think, in your room sometimes. Walls aren't very thick, eh? Guess that's what you get when you're paying the cheapest rent in town. It's a great location though."

Roxas just stared. This person was too cool for him, he was sure of it. So what should he do next? "Yeah, that's right. Well, I saw you buy pancake mix. Do you, uh… do you like pancakes?" He could tell he looked as uncomfortable as he felt. Where was he coming up with this shit?

"Yes. You too?"

Too cool for him. "Yeah, loads."

"Well, okay. I thought I'd try out this new mix."

"Oh cool. Yeah, maybe I'll buy some too…." Oh dear Lord. He couldn't be doing this more poorly. He stared again at the boxes he'd left on the ground.

"Well, you know, if you'd like to try it first, I'm planning on making these tomorrow morning – maybe adding some M&Ms or something, if you're into ruining your appetite thing in the morning. You're welcome to stop by."

"Yes! Yeah – I'd love that. Love pancakes, so, yeah. Obviously I'd like that too. Sounds great. I'll see you then!" Roxas said, starting to push his cart away. His flight instinct was sharply intact.

"Yes, well, wait. I'll just knock on your door then, when they're ready – probably at 10 or something. I don't wake up too early, if that's alright with you," the man said smiling the most impressively beautiful smile Roxas had beheld.

"Oh that's yes. That's alright with me. Bye then," Roxas said, doing a strange kind of wave-head nod mix that he had never attempted in his life before. What was happening to him?

"Bye," the man said, looking down at the fallen boxes. "Oh here, I'll pick those up for you."

"Oh yeah – okay great," Roxas said, evacuating the scene as fast as possible before realizing that he was leaving a semi-god to clean up his mess. "Er thanks," he added, vaguely turning his head back and smiling.

"You bet," the man said, nodding as he put the last boxes back on the shelf. "Bye then."

Roxas walked into the next isle and sighed. He was going to have to get some practice in before tomorrow.


End file.
